


On Winters Breath, I Await a Guardian

by Inkly_Noted



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Spirits, Book 3: Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, Book 4: Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, Demons, Elemental Harry, Fae Magic, Gen, Ice, Ice Magic, Ice Powers, Ice Skating, Independent Harry Potter, Kinda, Lore - Freeform, Magically Powerful Harry Potter, Patroni are intelligent, Patronus Charm (Harry Potter), Powerful Harry, Powerful Harry Potter, Prongs is like an asshole uncle, Spirit Harry Potter, Spirits, What-If, elemental harry potter, figure skating, magic lore, spirit harry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-02-09
Packaged: 2021-03-12 04:34:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29129589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inkly_Noted/pseuds/Inkly_Noted
Summary: Fifty four seconds. For some, an eternity, others, the blink of an eye. How much can go right, how much can go wrong in fifty four seconds? Well I suppose when you're about to get your soul sucked out, things may shift into perspective.
Relationships: Albus Dumbledore & Harry Potter, Cedric Diggory & Harry Potter, Harry Potter & Prongs, Hermione Granger & Harry Potter & Ron Weasley, Sirius Black & Harry Potter
Comments: 4
Kudos: 45





	1. Chapter 1

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On winter's breath, condemned land to wither,  
frost crept up and down, it slithers,  
All shall shiver, froze in death,   
all blame lies on winter's breath. 

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Cold. 

Was all he could feel, all he knew. That ever existed and would ever exist. 

If one were to glance at Harry Potter, they would only perceive a frozen corpse. Lips and cheeks blue, skin a greyed white, frost crept up on his skin, hair, and even his circle glasses. 

But he wasn't dead, he was alive but so very cold. Limp on the frozen, muddy ground as his chest slowly, softly rose and fell. His watery eyes gazed blankly up at the stars, mindlessly counting the flickering lights. 

It would have been peaceful, if not for the presence of dementors. They slowly circled the lake, getting closer and drawing the frost with them. His godfather, Sirius, had long passed out from the traumatic sensation of cold. Be lay beside Harry, trembling and whimpering in night terrors. 

Harry watched it all through apathy, what was the point? The only thing he felt was ice, he was being consumed by it. Was this death? The icy grip of the reaper wrenching his soul from his mortal body? Or just the dementors, he didn't know. 

His soul would be taken soon anyway, if not from freezing then from the foul demons. As if sensing his thoughts, one of them swooped in, ending the illusion of safety. He had collapsed from exhaustion not long ago, too magically spent from trying to cast the patronus charm. His fingers twitched in the mud, towards his wand that was centimeters out of reach. 

It hovered, creeping closer to Harry. It moved like a shadow on the dark forest trees, and the chill worsened. As it reached his face and removed its hood to show its grotesque features, he heard his mother's screams of death. 

With a rotting, clawed hand it held Harry's face in place. It began sucking as it closed the remaining distance between them, and soon a feeling of strings being cut resonated in his being. His body dropped like a marionette, and he ambiently noticed a white light leaving his mouth. 

As his soul was being torn from his body, he knew the same was happening to Sirius. He would have cried if he could, a tortured man like his godfather didn't deserve this. If he could have cast the charm, if he hadn't been so weak... 

Nearly all the tethers were cut, and despite being in the most spiritual agony he had ever experienced, he held the final thread with all he had. If he could, could do anything to help Sirius, he would hold his soul to this plane as long as possible. 

A fact about souls, they do not like being in their pure forms on the mortal plane. If they are removed from their bodies but death doesn't collect them, they become wraiths to protect themselves from corruption. Corruption occurs when the mortal plane infects the souls with properties, and in wraith form it happens slowly. If a wraith possessed snakes for about a decade, it would gain serpentine qualities. 

However, without the wraith form, the soul would absorb the properties of the surroundings much, much quicker to adapt. 

As Harry's soul fought the dementors pull yet remained un-bodied, it began taking in the mass amounts of frost air particles and magic in the air. The pure white slowly changed to a subtle baby blue, and normally this would lead to the soul being rejected by death. It would create a magical spirit based on the type of corruption. 

As Harry Potter's insane luck would have it, as the connection with his soul was almost snapped, a stag patronus galloped into the forest clearing. It was large, bright, and decidedly blue. 

The dementors were chased away with an awful screech, and the one that almost won its meal was forced to flee. 

The stained soul of Harry Potter was sling shot back into his body. As his eyes rolled back in unconsciousness and his soul began re-tethering itself while doing some horcrux eating, a lock of black, wet hair on Harry's fringe bled white. 

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Harry heard voices, they came in and out of focus and no matter how hard he tried he simply wouldn't wake up. Madame Pomfrey was there, no doubt scolding everyone else in the room. Snape's slimey voice came through, as did Hermione's and... the Minister? The talk seemed heated, Hermione was definitely worked up. And try as he might to see what was going on, his body was just too weak to stay conscious. He slipped back into rest, even as Sirius' fate remained unknown. 

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When Harry finally came to it he was in the hospital wing, and received an ache that felt as though his body had been ripped apart then put together again. 

He groaned coarsely in pain, shifting his head and breathing in deeply. Harry sluggishly lifted his weak hand to his face, and rubbed his droopy eyes. The conversation halted, and Harry opened his eyes. 

"Harry!" Hermione flung her arms around his neck, and hugged him tight. The bed creaked a bit with the extra weight, but Harry just lifted an arm around her back. He spotted Ron with a bandaged leg giving him a smile. 

"Hermione? What happened?" His head was fuzzy, like trying to remember a dream that didn't wish to be remembered. 

"They've captured Sirius, any minute now they're going to perform a kiss." 

"You mean they're going to kill him?" 

"No, it's worse; much worse. They're going to suck out his soul." 

As Dumbledore opened the hospital wing doors, Harry lost his ability to breathe. In horrid flashes the events at the lake came rushing back to him. With a choked gasp he clutched at his chest, twitching fingers clawing at his shirt. 

The phantom pain of what must have been his soul being ripped out rushed through his nerves, chilling himself to the bone. He had   
almost died, what an existential thought for a thirteen year old to have. 

The sensation of being without a body, even for a few seconds was painful. It was painful in a chilled ache kind of way, and Harry wasn't sure he would ever be able to forget it. 

How had Voldemort coped? 

In the blue light of evening, Harry stared despondently at the rest of the wing. Professor Dumbledore, Hermione and Ron were whispering about something, but for some reason his nosiness wasn't curious. By the time he had pulled himself half together, Dumbledore was gone and Hermione had come at him and wrapped a chain around his neck. 

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Personally, Harry didn't recommend time travel, two stars out of ten. The extra stars were for saving Sirius and Buckbeak, the only positive outcomes. 

Hermione and he had been running around the castle grounds for two and a half hours, apparently making sure the timeline was completed as expected. As stressful as it was, in the end it was mostly worth it. Buckbeak was safe, Fudge looked like a fool, and Harry got to see Hermione sock Malfoy again. 

What wasn't worth it however, was being chased by werewolf Lupin. They had been running for a while, and probably would have died if Buckbeak hadn't stepped in. 

Currently they were making for the lake, having seen the dementors swooshing in. By the time they arrived they saw past-Harry and Sirius on the ground unconscious, and as Harry stared he heard Hermione gasp. Looking at the scene as an outsider, the two of them looked nearly dead; Harry especially. He looked frozen as the dementor loomed above him, and Harry nearly began to hyperventilate before Hermione shook him out of it. 

"What are we going to do? No one's coming!" 

Harry continued looking, the numbness he had been experiencing up until now dissipating. How dare this monster try to eat his soul? After all he had worked for, things were beginning to look up with Sirius actually wanting to take him in, and this thing tries to take his chance of happiness from him? 

An unfamiliar feeling built in his chest, and as he gripped his wand in righteous anger it fueled his movements. It felt like his magic, yet at the same time cooler. Like a cold breeze on a hot summer day. 

He rashly ran down to the muddy shore, his shoes crunching the wet gravel as he saw himself and Sirius on the other side. He halted, and began pushing energy into his wand like never before. He focused on nothing but driving the demons away. 

"EXPECTO PATRONUM!" Harry put as much power and feeling into the words as he could, and a bright light absolutely erupted from the end of his wand. 

From the bluish light, he saw something come out from his wand. It was a large, quadrupedal animal with horns. The shape was so bright he could hardly look at it. 

He watched as what he could now see was a large buck galloping gracefully around the lake, driving off the dementors with a charge. He watched himself fall back unconscious with his soul intact, and Sirius stopped convulsing. 

With the dementors gone and everyone safe, Harry fell to his knees with a gasp. He had never used so much magic before, it was like squeezing a tube of toothpaste empty rather than taking what you need. 

When the light in the clearing shifted, Harry looked up at the majestic stag he had summoned. While translucent, it obviously had a light blue coat with a white undercoat. The antlers were great and complicated, they almost looked like gems were hanging off them. 

It turned to him with bright blue eyes, and trotted over till it rested beside him. It bent down to nuzzle his hair, and Harry immediately felt deja vu. He was reminded of a warm, comforting presence that he had nearly forgotten about, that he had felt from so long ago. Tears pricked his eyes. 

He didn't know what exactly it was, the feelings that this spirit evoked from him. They almost didn't feel complete, muddled and with heavy nostalgia. The stag trotted back around, and stared at Harry with its piercing eyes. No words were exchanged, but as they locked eyes a message was broadcasted. 

Summon me again. 

Then it dissipated, wisping away into nothing. Harry stared at the dark, empty space of the clearing for a few seconds, still gripping his holly wand as his hand shook. His face had a thin sheen of sweat, and he didn't blink behind his glasses. 

As a chilled breeze blew his fringe over his scar, Hermione rested a soft hand on his shoulder. He knew she had questions, so did he, but she didn't mention it. Good, he didn't think he would have been able to answer them. 

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Buckbeak was nice enough to lend them a ride as they followed where the Ministry took Sirius, he was a nice distraction from tonight's events. Any awkwardness between Harry and Hermione was dispelled as Harry laughed his arse off while Hermione was screaming bloody murder. 

Getting Sirius out of the holding cell was easy, bombarda really was a useful spell. After, they landed in a courtyard, and each got off the hippogriff. Sirius took him a little ways away, enough to still see Hermione petting Buckbeak. 

They sat on the damp bench, the wind and Buckbeak's squawks filling the silence. Harry picked at the concrete beside him, not knowing how to open a conversation with his estranged godfather. 

He heard the man sigh, and stiffened a little when a skeletal hand was placed on his shoulder. 

"Thank you, I don't know how I will ever repay you. Both of you." His words alarmed Harry, surely he wasn't going to leave him? He whipped his head in Sirius' direction. 

"I want to go with you, you're the only family I have left." He saw Sirius grimace, and he had a sinking feeling about where this was going. 

"Well, one day perhaps. It seems my life will be rather unpredictable for the foreseeable future, and look at what already happened to us; you." Harry realized Sirius must not have been as unconscious as he thought, and he slumped in shame at how weak he must have looked. "And besides, you belong here. I won't be able to give you everything you need, Hogwarts can." Sirius seemed to have forgotten that summer was coming up, and Harry couldn't help the feeling that he was being shrugged off. 

"But, you're innocent." His hope was diminishing, and his protests were growing flimsy. 

"And you know it, and for now that will do." So that was that, huh? Doomed to be shipped off to the Dursleys, while his godfather is on the run; probably tracking down Pettigrew and having all sorts of adventures. Harry felt like a child, thinking like this. Sirius was looking out for him, making sure that he wouldn't be hurt. If they were caught together, Harry would probably end up in a cell right next to his godfather's. 

And yet, all he could hear was Vernon Dursley ranting at how useless he was. 

Harry pursed his lips, putting his chilly hands between his legs. He stared down at the rough concrete, his shoes making noise as they scuffed it. The hand that was on his shoulder shifted to his face as Sirius crouched in front of him, suddenly studying his face in detail. Harry saw a soft smile on his swallow face, containing more nostalgic joy than he thought an expression could hold. 

"You're probably tired of hearing this, but you look so like your father." A tiny smile wormed its way onto Harry's face, he had heard this a lot, but the genuine emotion in Sirius' voice made it feel real. "Except your eyes, you have-" 

"-My mother's eyes." He huffed a little laugh, feeling the sad shift in the conversation. 

Sirius paused a little as he studied Harry, but he soon let go. He still looked intently into Harry's emerald eyes, Lily's eyes. 

"It's cruel that I've got to spend so much time with Lily and James, and you so little. But know this," He nodded a bit to himself. "The ones that love us never really leave us, and you can always find them," He put a hand on Harry's chest, just over his heart. He had to stop himself from shivering from the phantom pain. "In here." Sirius said it with such resolution, but he quickly looked away and got up. He probably remembered they were looking for him, but Harry still felt so lost as he trailed behind Sirius as he went to mount Buckbeak. Sirius looked down at Hermione once he was situated. 

"Thank you."

Hermione nodded then backed up to where Harry had hung behind, and before Sirius took off he turned to Harry. 

"You really are your father's son." Sirius turned, and they watched as Sirius flew off with Buckbeak into the night. The full moon was still shining so brightly, but in spite of the scenery Harry only felt empty as the one chance at a nice home life flew further and further away into the distance. 

Just as Harry began to steady himself, Hermione gasped as she looked at the time. 

"We have to go, there's only ten minutes to get to the hospital wing without anyone seeing us before Professor Dumbledore locks the door!" She grabbed his arm and they ran off through the shadowed corridors, the moon as their only guidance. 

Along the way they nearly ran into Fudge and Snape, who had left a few minutes before Harry had woken. Even if he would have been in pain, he wished he had been able to give the two gits a piece of his mind, Harry raged internally as they passed bragging about Sirius being in custody. 

"I can't wait to hear their reactions to Sirius escaping." Harry saw Hermione about to defend them, but remembered her encounter with them earlier in the hospital wing. He'd be sure to inform her after he snooped. 

They had to hide from the gleeful Peeves along the way, but they made it in time to hear Dumbledore finish chatting with their past selves.


	2. Chapter 2

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The end of the year was the same as usual, kids exhausted but relieved of school's horrible stress, the blistering summer heat that cooked the castle's inhabitants, and exclusive to this year; Sirius Black's escape. 

Harry shouldn't have thought it as funny as he did, but knowing the truth made the topic rather humorous. Hearing about how Black was actually a vampire and had broken out of the prison was a nice distraction from his inner turmoil. 

Despite all the good he had done, Harry was ending the year on a depressed note. Getting his hopes up of a normal home for a measly half hour then having them crushed did that, so did finding out Lupin had to leave because of that greaseball Snape especially helped. 

Harry didn't think he could hate that slimey prat more, but every time he managed to prove Harry wrong. 

He grunted angrily as he hurled another rock into the clearing lake, and leaned back against a cedar tree. As he watched the ripples in the water, he brushed his fingers on the map that sat innocuously to his left on the gravel. 

Watching Lupin being forced to flee his own classroom because of Snape and his racist little snakes stoked an anger in Harry that he had never really felt before. The gifted map, information of his parents, and Dumbledore's reassurance did little to help. Oh sure, the Dursleys had special little pieces of hatred dedicated to them in Harry's heart, but lately whenever he thought about what Malfoy and Snape had tried to do to two innocent lives; he was reminded of how he felt everytime something Voldemort related came up. 

Just thinking about it gave Harry a tremor, a cold feeling that zips through his body whenever he felt strong emotion. Ever since that night at this lake he'd been having them nonstop, even Seamus had been getting concerned whenever he shivered uncontrollably in the sweltering castle. 

It'd been bad enough explaining away the white streak in his bangs, "Oh yeah, just thought I'd try something new." Punk fashion had been popular lately, so it wasn't too unbelievable. 

As Harry tried to block out the late June sun, he grabbed the offending lock of hair. It didn't look bleached, there was no trace of blonde in it. It was a pure, blueish white that had shown up after almost having his soul sucked out. He was sure that the hair and his tremors had everything to do with that night, he just didn't know what that night did to him. 

In his dreams he remembered the feeling of his soul disconnecting from his body, the freezing air, the darkness, and the ice. He couldn't remember anything from them besides sensations, but nonetheless he was still shaken awake by one of his dorm mates to make sure he wasn't freezing to death. 

Harry groaned, wondering when he would ever get a break. Sometimes it seems like only he, Ron and especially Hermione ever cared when something happened at this school, the faculty and even Dumbledore sometimes seemed so stationary. 

Ah, Dumbledore. The discussion of Trelawney's prediction was fresh in his mind, as was the total inaction. While Harry didn't expect him to go create an army to go and snuff out the threat of Voldemort, a little promise of "I'll keep an eye out" would've eased some of his worries. 

'Though, he probably wouldn't phrase it like that,' he thought as he skipped a stone twice. 'He'd more likely say "Do not fret, Mr Potter. You have my word that any nefarious deeds will not go undetected."' He breathed a laugh at his own, terrible, mental impression of Dumbledore. 

Standing up, putting the map in his pocket, and brushing off any forest debris, Harry adjusted his glasses and walked to a large oak tree. It was littered with little slashes and gouges, as for the last few days he had been practicing. 

The other night had struck a chord within Harry, every single year, without fail he was put in mortal peril. Whether because he put himself there or circumstances demanded it, wasn't relevant. Even if Sirius had left to keep Harry safe, he couldn't shake the idea it was because he wasn't strong enough to defend himself. 

Taking a deep breath, Harry took out his holly wand. He studied the clearing a little, when it wasn't so dark and muddy it was actually rather relaxing. The fluffy clouds in the sky served to calm him, and he aimed his wand in front of him. 

"Expeliarmus!" 

He started off with simple charms and jinxes, just to warm up. Then, he began delving into hexes and curses. After experiencing the magical fatigue that night, exercising his endurance was prudent. If casting one spell, albeit a very powerful one, was enough to put him on his knees; better stamina was needed. 

"Reducto!" 

"Bombarda!" 

"Petrificus totalus!" 

"Stupify!" 

The more he practiced them randomly, the better he became at chaining them. While he felt that on some levels this was basic spell work, Aurors did use these to detain people. Still, despite their effectiveness, Harry didn't think facing Voldemort again with these spells would help him much. 

In an attempt to remedy this, he went into a Tome Store on the final Hogsmeade weekend. The selection wasn't great, but there were some more obscure books inside. It was better than Diagon, Flourish and Blotts only kept up with the popular and basic books. Great for business, bad for teenagers fighting a crazed, evil warlock. 

Either way, Harry hoped to study their information at Privet and pick up practicing once he was back at Hogwarts. 

Lowering his wand, Harry coughed. Speaking all these incantations really wore on the vocal cords, he's seen older wizards like McGonagall and Dumbledore cast silently. Even some seventh years, was this something he could learn? 

Back on track. This was his third spell casting rep this session, and he needed to grab some lunch soon. He wasn't exhausted, so one final spell shouldn't hurt. 

Harry thought back back on his patronus, and how it had acted. It seemed to try to communicate with him, to get him to summon it again. He bit his lip, twirling his wand between his fingers. He glanced at it, then went over to the even more worn oak tree. 

When he was finished his summer work and bored at the Dursleys, Harry would often sit down and study his magical belongings. At first glance, they were just materials that happened to help with performing magic. Wands were wood, books had interesting words, and his truck kept his things. 

But when he looked closer, he could see the imperfections in the ink and parchment in the medieval styled books, durability runes carved into their covers, and the little magic details that flowed in the books. He saw the Celtic runes and design work etched into his wooden trunk, along with protection, durability, stasis ones too. 

But his wand was something else, it was a real work of art. While there were a few grooves and tiny chips here and there from his adventures, the beautiful design still shone through. 

There wasn't really a handle, just little carvings that suggested where your hand should go. He didn't know how Olivander made these little frost fern patterns so realistic, but the way they crept along the holly was artful. Harry often traced the lines when he was nervous, he was intimately familiar with his wand and it always amazed him. 

So when he noticed the dusting of real frost on the tip and where had been gripping it for the last few minutes, Harry was a tad alarmed. 

"What the hell..?" Thinking back on it, cold seemed to be following him lately. Ron had been complaining about a draft in their dorm, his drinks always had little ice bits inside, Hermione had been shocked how freezing his hand was, and whoever was next to him in class got cold; even in the greenhouse. 

And his patronus... 

Unlike Remus' and Dumbledore's, his hadn't been silvery white. Prongs was blue, a light blue yes, but blue. A patronus was a spirit guardian, one you called forth from your being by focusing on powerful memories. 

All of this, the hair, the chills around him, what did that dementor do to him when it tried to suck... out... 

His... 

.  
.  
. 

Soul. 

His soul. That was outside of his body for nearly half a minute, that had been exposed to all of that horribly frosty air. The answers came like a bludger to the chest, whatever was happening to him, it was because what the dementors did had messed. with. his. Soul. 

His hand began to shake, his wand in its grasp had frost creeping up from where he was holding it. 

Harry dropped it with a yelp, instead putting his hand on the tree. Which, predictably, began to frost as well. The worn tree apparently couldn't take the compression on one side, and with a groan, the giant oak began to fall on Harry. 

He scrambled back as far as he could, but he didn't move fast enough. He thrust his hands in front of his face, and waited for pain. 

But nothing. 

After a few moments, Harry untucked himself. He looked up, coming face to face with bark just centimeters above him. 

"Merlin's testicle-!" He rolled to the side, backing up as he gaped at the phenomenon before him. He had to rub his eyes and wipe his glasses, because he couldn't believe it. 

The tree had fallen alright, but it's revenge was thwarted by the giant chunk of ice that blasted up from where Harry had been. 

It almost looked like a hedgehog from the side, the spikes wrapped around the trunk at the break and held it in place. He kept backing up, still in shock. 

"Bloody hell, bloody hell, what the fuck..." His hands came to the side of his face, tangling in his hair. His foot hit a dip, but he just kept backing away. 

'Maybe if I leave quietly, I can leave all this here.' He turned around, ready to go back to the castle and leave this. here, but when he did, he noticed that he was no longer on the beach. 

He wasn't on the trail, either. 

No, he was standing on the lake, held up by an ice path that seemed to form from each of his steps. He slowly lowered his arms, no longer able to tell if this was a lucid dream. 

With wide eyes, he lifted his right foot. He raised it above the water, and pressed down. As soon as his shoe made contact with the water, a crystal like pattern emanated from underneath it. 

Harry laughed incredulously, and did it again. And again, and again. He was walking on the lake, every step he made he felt a little burst of magic freeze the water. It was just like when he cast the patronus. 

Then, he began to speed up. Faster and faster, he ran across the water, freezing the surface and forgetting why he was ever scared. Harry laughed joyfully, not having felt this carefree in months. 

And then he slipped. 

"OOF!" He landed on his back and knocked the wind out of himself, but it didn't dampen his mood. He felt as if he had just rediscovered magic, and he wheezed a chuckle. 

Harry pushed himself up till he was seated, and looked around. It seems he was almost at the middle of the lake, and his little ice path hadn't began thawing yet. He began making little frost fern patterns in the water beside him, seeing a little fish peek at him before darting away. 

Harry couldn't remember the last time he had had so much fun on a lake, except maybe that one time he got to ice skate on a field trip. 

Wait. 

He very nearly giggled to himself as he got an idea, taking off his school shoes and putting the leather in his lap. He took McGonagall's visualization advice, remembering how the blades on the skates looked like. 

Unlike transfiguration however, the blades didn't just conjure up. Instead, his hands got this weird blue glow, and snow seemed to form from them. The particles took on the desired shape, and they seemed to solidify into ice. 

Grinning like a loon, Harry brought the blades up to his eyes for examination. They were a little wonky, but with a little more work he had two, perfect blades. He attached them to the soles of his shoes by creating a layer of ice around them, then he put them on. 

He nearly fell again when he stood, but managed to steady himself. It had been years since he had first learned the basics, and he hadn't practiced since. However, it seems the idea of water freezing when touched still applied to his ice skates. 

He slowly pushed off, he wobbled a bit and flailed his arms, but he stayed up. Slowly, he relearned how to skate. Push right, push left. Right, left. Right, left. 

It took a few hours, the sun was beginning to go down as it became well past noon, but Harry was eventually zooming around a fully frozen lake. 

The scrape of ice on ice was like music too Harry's ears, he didn't know how much skating was like flying; he loved it. He began to do little jumps, he almost broke his ankle on the first try, but eventually he began to get it. Skating backwards was fun too, even if doing it felt weird at first. 

He flew close to the shore, reaching out his finger tips and grazing some of the branches. He laughed in delight when frost shot along them, gaining the weirdest happiness as he, well, played. 

The afternoon light was orange, and it reflected beautifully on Harry's ice. Snow was falling on the area now, a breeze along with it. It was like his own little winter wonderland; and for the first time in his life, Harry wished it was winter again. 

'Though,' Harry did a spinning jump 'it would be a lot more fun if I had someone to skate with.' As he circled along the lake, he noticed he was back by the fallen oak tree. Looking closer, he saw his wand still sparkling with frost on the gravel. 

"Hmm, well; killing two birds with one stone and all." Harry skated over to the tree, and had a little trouble getting onto the ground to grab it. But soon he stumbled back onto the ice, wand in hand. 

"Alright, then. Let's do this." He focused on his mother and her sacrifice again, feeling the emotions to fuel the spell. Then he pulled on his magic, and he felt the more familiar cool feeling. 

"Expecto Patronum." The spell was whispered, Harry was unwilling to disturb this calm. 

The light blue filled the clearing once again, and the stag came from the holly once again. It snorted, the spirit quickly looking for any danger. When none was found in the icy clearing, it's blue eyes peered questioning at Harry. 

"Oh, nothing's wrong." Harry skated towards the stag, whose eyes scanned the clearing again; noticing that everything was frozen. 

"I called you here because... I was bored, I guess." His reasoning sounded weaker when spoken aloud, and by the look Prongs was giving Harry he wasn't impressed. 

"Well not for no reason- I'm pretty sure you wanted me to call you again, right?" Harry received a nod, and he grinned. 

"So, since I'm lonely and alone, I thought calling you would be a good idea." He skated around the buck, and Prongs indicated to the clearing. 

"Oh, this? I did it, I suppose. I don't know how, but suddenly ice was coming from my hands and the water was freezing when I stepped on it. I have a theory that it was from the dementors, when my soul was unbodied for a bit." Harry cringed as he remembered the feeling, and Prongs' eyes widened as he made an alarmed bleat. 

"Well, why do you think there was two of me the other night? I was saving my godfather, and myself I suppose, with a time turner. Man, are you sure you're a representation of my emotions? Thought you would've known if you were." The strong negative bellow surprised Harry, Prongs wasn't that then? 

Looking into his guardian's eyes, Harry was rather astonished by the wisdom in the stag's eyes. Definitely not some emotional residue, then. 

"Okay then, what are you?" Harry immediately felt stupid, obviously Prongs wouldn't just start chatting away with a merry London accent. 

Huffing in exasperation, the buck trotted up to Harry. Prongs lowered his head, and made direct eye contact. Harry stood there awkwardly, not knowing what to do. What was he- 

*"I am a guardian spirit, yours to be precise."* 

Harry startled, looking at the calm spirit in surprise. 

"You can talk?" Harry blamed puberty for the way his voice cracked. 

*"Now that you let me form a connection, yes; I can, oh wise one."* Shockingly, Harry felt that he was being mocked. 

"Well excuse me for not expecting a dementor shield to be capable of intelligent conversation, I wasn't exactly aware." Harry skated away petulantly, and Prongs galloped up to meet his slow speed easily. 

*"Dementor shield? That's what we are equated to now? How insulting, but expected sadly. I haven't heard of a Wix wanting to communicate with one of us in a long time."* Prongs became downtrodden as he trotted, obviously this wasn't a good thing. 

"Well, I want to communicate. Anyways, what are Patroni if not that? I just learned about you a few months ago, nothing like this was ever mentioned." Prongs seemed to puff up in pride, obviously he held his kind in high regard. 

*"We Patroni are just that, patrons. When a Wix first successfully uses the Patronus spell, a guardian spirit that best fits the caster will answer the call. Unfortunately, less and less are learning how to perform it, or simply cannot. But obviously, this means that you and I are compatible. In fact, I have been watching over you since you were born. I was your father's first, after all."* 

"Wait! You were my dad's patronus?" Harry seemed to be learning a lot about his father this year. 

*"Oh, yes. He used to summon me to entertain you when you were very young, he was one of the few that was actually close to having a conversation with his spirit. He and your mother, I believe. Flower used to tell me how close she was sometimes, but sadly no one knew what we really were. The only reason we are communicating now is because you wanted something to talk at, and you didn't have any ingrained ideas."* Prongs seemed exasperated at the luck, and Harry had a feeling that snide remarks would be common between them. On another note, that explained the familiarity when he summoned Prongs, but not his physical body. 

"Well, I appreciate you telling me. You don't know how much it means to hear about them, I don't know that much about them. However, do you know why you're blue? Every patronus I've seen is silvery white." Prongs stopped walking at the mention of being blue, and soon the buck was bleating alarmingly as he looked at his body. 

*"Blue?! BLUE! How can this be?! What did those foal curtains do to you?!"* He seemed on the verge of tears if his voice in Harry's head was to be believed. 

"Well, one of them managed to take my soul from my body for like thirty seconds before you saved me, and a lock of hair on my bangs turned white." Harry held up the specific lock, and Prongs looked closer." 

*"There's more.*" 

"What?" 

*"You're not grabbing all of it, kid."* 

Harry quickly conjured a mirror, and saw that on the left side of his fringe, the lock in front of his ear also turned white. The entire left side of his bangs was white. 

"What the hell?! It was only this one a few hours ago! How could this much turn white?!" 

*"Maybe because you did this?"* Prongs gestured at the frozen lake, and the hot summer sun that put it out of place. 

"Oh. Yeah, that's probably why." Harry vanished the mirror, really seeing what he had done. It felt like coming out of a trance, he had been so excited about his new powers he didn't even notice how much time passed. If he missed dinner, they probably would've started looking for him. Then, they would have found him acting all crazy as he froze everything in sight. That definitely would've been bad. 

*"Regardless, your soul being outside of your body that long is bad! Very bad! It's one thing to have it kind of loose or even out for a second, but half a minute! Thirty seconds of exposure! By the gods, child, this is not good."* Prongs was almost panicked, this did not help Harry feel any better. 

"Why?" 

*"Have you ever learned of magical corruption?"* 

"No, nothing." 

*"What are they teaching you kids these days? Okay, corruption occurs when an existing environment affects pure magic. Obviously, not all corruption is negative. However, say a soul- which is a pure magic being- is exposed to foreign properties. The soul would usually turn into a wraith, a protective form to keep corruption away. It still happens, but at an incredibly slower rate. But if that doesn't happen, the soul will become affected by the nearest physical properties. That is how magic adapts to the physical world, and since a soul is magic, it follows the same rule. 

*"The soul will be transformed into a volatile magical being based on the environment, and will no longer be able to follow what happens to a mortal soul after death. However, this didn't happen to you. Your soul was being pulled on by a dementor while you managed to keep it tethered to your body. And since your soul returned to your body once the dementor left, your soul was corrupted and your body is reflecting the changes as they come."* This day is just once shocker after another, huh? 

"S-so, what your saying is; I can't die?" For some reason that didn't sit right with him. Prongs snuffed in amusement. 

*"Everything dies, child. One day, I too will die. You can only delay the inevitable. However, for all intents and purposes, you are now a magical spirit in a mortal body. The only reason you retained your sense of self is because of your bodily anchor. Once this body dies, you will become a spirit. Though, not as you would have if you hadn't be rebodied."* That was... kind of relieving. Still, there was one thing. 

"What is a spirit? Is it like a ghost or poltergeist?" The stag sniffed in disgust. 

*"I simply refuse to believe education has fallen so low, you must be stupid."* 

"Go eat a carrot, you glorified glowstick." 

"But to answer, no. In fact we are far from those human remnants. A ghost is a piece of a soul that refused to rest, and a poltergeist is concentrated negative emotion. Spirits are born of magic, gifted longevity and purpose in our existence. We cannot be exorcised nor harmed by regular magic, the only thing that can hurt us is another spirit, or a demon. And before you ask,"* Harry closed his mouth. *"Demons are malevolent spirits that have forsaken their purpose, or were created by corruption."* 

"Wait, wouldn't I be a demon?" Harry didn't want to be a demon, he didn't think he could if he tried. He'd probably just ask some spirit to kill him before he tried to hurt someone. 

*"Do you have the uncontrollable urge to hurt anything that moves?"* 

"No." 

*"Do you wish to cause discord for the sake of it?"* 

"A little bit sometimes, but not a lot." 

*"Be serious. Do you want to consume every drop of magic that comes your way?"* 

"Obviously not." 

*"Then you are not a demon, end of story. However, you do have new abilities that you must learn to control, if your little skating rink says anything."* 

Harry looked back at the clearing, the ice still hadn't melted, that may be a problem. As if sensing his thoughts, Prongs turned to him. 

*"This is spirit ice, it will not melt until you let it. Think of it melting away and disappearing, it is not dissimilar to vanishing."* 

Harry stretched out his hands, sensing the ice and structures he had created. He imagined them disappearing into nothing,  
returning to a normal summer swimming hole. 

He opened his eyes. Nothing. 

Sighing, Harry reached out again. This time with his ice magic too, and he willed the cold to dissipate. He felt something shift, and he opened his eyes. 

"Prongs, did I-" 

SLASH. 

As Harry broke the surface of the liquid lake, he saw a floating Prongs looking incredibly amused. He coughed up the water from his lungs, and began treading. 

"You absolute bastard!" 

*"It's not my fault you didn't skate off the lake before thawing it, think of it as payback for calling me a glowstick. Now, it's been a treat talking to you Harry, but I must go. Everyone will be curious, and I do love to gossip." 

"Wait." Harry gasped as he made it to shore, ringing out his tie and thanking himself he left his robes at the tree. "How can I talk to you again? I've got to go home and I can't perform spells outside school." 

*"Silly Wix and their laws,"* Prongs grumbled a little. *"You don't need to cast the charm now that we've bonded, just call and I will answer. Now, goodbye Prongslet."* With a final nuzzle, Prongs disappeared. 

Harry sighed as he went to grab his robes, making sure his wand was still in his pocket. Thank Merlin the Marauders were smart enough to waterproof the map. 

He cast a drying charm at the fallen oak, noting the ice was gone. He grabbed his robes and began towards the castle, dinner would be soon. 

Now, how to avoid Hermione's perception until he was at the Dursleys tomorrow.


	3. Chapter 3

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Walking back to the castle was anticlimactic, and if anything made the dread set in. What was he going to do? Say? Nothing for now, not until he knew what was going to happen to him. 

Harry cast a quick tempest and cursed, at this rate he would be late for dinner. He looked at the path, then at the lake. The path went around the lake then back towards the castle, but Harry was closest to the castle where he was. The problem was the lake in between. 

Sneaking a glance around, Harry didn't see anyone. The Scottish, summer night was empty of people. Everyone was probably at the feast already, so a quick short cut shouldn't hurt. 

He steered off the dirt path and made his way to the shore, then he called up his ice. After a quick test step, Harry was running his way across the water. He had to stop doing this, it could become a hard habit to break. 

But after feeling that pleasant carelessness again, he knew it already was. 

Harry quickly made it to the other side and vanished the ice, and soon caught the path to the great hall again. He heard the hundreds of voices chatting, obviously it hadn't started yet. 

Just as Harry was slipping through the entrance doors, he heard a familiar and hated voice. 

"Potter, still sneaking about I see." He stiffened, the large doors making a loud clang as he let them go too soon. He whipped around to the potion master, barely keeping a scowl from his face. 

"Professor, I was just taking a walk. Didn't want to make a scene coming in late." 

"Quite, I'd say you've made more than enough this year." Harry bit back a retort, having a last minute detention this year was not desired. He saw Snape glance up at his hair and sneer. 

"Well, it appears I was mistaken. Five points for a gross violation of the dress code, now get out of my sight." Even though Gryffindor was set to win, it wasn't surprising that Snape would snatch as many last minute points as he could. 

Harry glared hatefully at the man, before briskly walking towards the Hall doors. He heard a sharp thud and a grunt behind him, and turned to see Snape on his back with the breath knocked out of him. 

He studied the ground a little, then quickly vanished the clear ice that had come from his foot. He quickly went back to the doors and entered the feast, half panicked and half smug. 

The shadowed entrance hall still didn't have, and will never have, anything on the hall itself. The bright torch lights and the yellowed evening light relaxed Harry, reminding him of home. The roof seemingly opened up to the sunset, and Harry made his way to the Gryffindor table with a smile. 

Ron and Hermione quickly waved him over and he acknowledged with a grin. He sat beside Ron, with Hermione opposite them. She was urgently reading a thick tome, obviously dreading returning it to the Hogwarts' library. 

Ron was devouring his food, more tame than usual, when he did a double take at Harry. 

"Blimey Harry, at this rate your whole head will be white." A couple of their year mates overheard, and chuckled when they saw the other white locks. Harry chuckled nervously. 

"Well, just wanted to see how it would look with more of it. I like it, might even go completely white. Better to do it myself before the stress catches up." They laughed and went back to the delicious English dinner, but Hermione and Ron gave him some weird looks. 

So much for going unnoticed. 

As if prompted, Snape charged through the doors looking murderous. Stalking up to Harry and grabbing him by the ear, he dragged the thirteen year old up to the head table. Harry yelped and followed the angry bat between the tables, where the staff was looking rather surprised. 

"I want this delinquent punished, he cursed me with my back turned then fled like a coward." Snape was practically frothing at the mouth, spittle flying everywhere. Professor Sprout looked rather disgusted when some landed in her food. 

"Hey, I didn't do anything!" Well not on purpose. "After you let me go I just went to the feast, I didn't curse you!" At this point he should've just disappeared under his invisibility cloak for the rest of the term, that would be more inconspicuous than this! 

Harry batted away the hand on his ear as Professor McGonagall came towards Snape, looking incredibly unimpressed. 

"Which one did he use?" Her doubt was palpable, especially after the way Snape had been treating him since Sirius escaped. 

"A tripping jinx." While Snape still looked angry, there was now an undertone of smugness in his slimey voice. Harry had the sudden urge to free Snape's teeth from their gums. 

"What was the incantation, Severus?" She looked exasperated as she prompted Harry for his wand, which he gave reluctantly. She cast something called 'Priori Incantatum' over the Holly wood. 

"I didn't hear one, he probably whispered it." Harry was about to try and prove his innocence since he never said a word, when McGonagall dryly toned in. 

"Well, provided you were knocked over by a drying charm, he didn't cast anything at you. Unless, of course, you think he had time to clear his wand by casting the Patronus unnoticed in the Great Hall?" While she said this, McGonagall glanced over at Harry. He realized she must be able to see some of his past incantations, that means she knows Harry's been casting those upper year offensive spells. 

"Then how do you explain myself falling onto my back?" Snape looked outraged once again, and Harry had to fight a pleased little smirk. 

"We do have a poltergeist, you know. Now, let Mister Potter go back to his seat. He hasn't done anything, and I'm sure Peeves was just looking to cause chaos." With a dark scowl, he turned and marched out of the room. His billowing robes flaired as he went back to his skulking, or whatever it was he was doing. 

"Well, is there anything you need Potter?" Harry shook his head no, and was about to finally go eat. "One moment, I ask that after dinner you meet me at my office. There is something I wish to discuss." Just lovely. 

"Of course, Professor." 

"Good, carry on." Harry gingerly walked back down between the Hufflepuff and Gryffindor tables, and sat back down in his seat. 

Everyone still looked startled, yet unsurprised. Snape had been like that for everyone lately. 

"What was that about?" 

"I have no idea." Harry thought it sounded convincing, but Hermione still gave him a searching look. Thankfully, neither her nor Ron brought it up. Harry grabbed a little of everything on the table, intent on savoring the last of Hogwarts food. They filled their last meal of the term with idle chatter and jokes. 

When the desert finally vanished and they were sent up to bed, Harry, Ron and Hermione were forced to split up when Harry saw McGonagall waiting for him by the doors. 

"I'll see you later, this shouldn't take long." At least he hoped not. Depends on how many questions she could ask, and how quickly he could escape. 

"See ya mate." 

"Bye Harry." 

He gave them a final nod before he turned and began making his way to the Professor, who seemed to watch them with a small smile. 

As soon as he caught up with McGonagall, she beckoned Harry to follow her. They walked by chatting portraits talking about their summer plans, and Peeves floating away giggling about playing hide and seek with Snape. Harry almost chuckled with him, and would have if McGee wasn't walking right infront of him. 

They made it to her office in a few minutes, and once they were closed off from the wandering nosey students McGonagall turned to him. 

"Potter, you are a good student. You hand in your assignments on time for the most part, they are written decently with developed ideas, your test scores are above average, and your practical work is excellent." As she spoke, she walked to her desk until she sat in it. When she finished she looked at him scrutinizingly, and Harry resisted the urge to squirm. 

"So, I would like to know the length of time you have been practicing these advanced spells, and when exactly you managed to conjure a Patronus!" She let a thin smile onto her face, and her stern voice became a little excited. 

Harry startled at the shift in tone, expecting to get chewed out for practicing out of his year range. 

"Umm, since the dementor incident, for both questions. I asked Hermione for some help and where to get the materials though, she also showed me h-" 

"We're not talking about Miss Granger, Potter. We all know she's extraordinary, tell me how you've been doing with the material." Harry hadn't really had a teacher interested in his abilities like this before, it felt pretty odd. 

"Well, I uh, guess actually doing the spells are fine. I mean, it's a bit challenging to cast from the written instructions, especially when the explanations are pretty wordy. But with a little explanation I can get them down pretty easily, though I need to improve a lot still." Harry fidgeted with his fingers as he talked, feeling an irrational embarrassment. 

"Would you mind showing me?" McGonagall didn't looked dampened in the slightest, she got up and lead the two to her empty classroom. The Professor moved the desks to the edges of the room with a flick of her wand, and conjured some basic training dummies. 

"Alright, then." Harry pulled out his wand from his pocket, and aimed it at the dummies in front of him. May as well start strong. 

"Bombarda!" 

Harry went through every spell he learned from those books, which wasn't really a lot. There were a few destructive spells, restraining spells, a couple more complex shield spells, and some elemental spells. Being able to conjure and control fire and a quick dash of lightning were very useful in a battle, even if he hadn't had much luck with those so far. 

"Baubillius!" 

As testament to that, his bolt of lightning fizzled out before it went anywhere. 

"Glacius!" 

On the contrary, all of his ice spells worked exceptionally well. The cold gust of wind did more than frost the target, it froze it solid. This was obviously because of his new abilities, but no one else new that. 

"Diffindo!" Harry slashed the top off of the last dummy, and turned back to McGonagall. She seemed contemplative, and analytical, but above it all she seemed pleased. Harry felt some weight lift off his shoulders. 

"Your form is weak, chaining slow, and some spells will need some work. That is what I would say to a slightly below average seventh year. You on the other hand, perform exceptionally with a wand for your age. You have the focus, will, and power to cast spells that would normally fizzle out the second a third year tried, and the endurance to cast for a good period of time. Quite frankly Mister Potter, I am outraged that I am only seeing this from you now." With each word Harry steadily grew redder, this amount of praise was not normal for him. 

"Thank you, Professor." 

"I've said nothing that isn't true. Now, show me your patronus." Her enthusiasm grew, obviously this was the real kicker. 

Looking down at his wand, Harry wondered what Prongs will think about him calling him so soon. Also not following his instructions to call him, oh well. Harry focused for show, 

"Expecto Patronum." Harry felt no drain on his magic anymore, Prongs was simply stepping through an unlocked and opened door. 

The stag galloped elegantly around the room, before halted and turning to Harry with a huff. 

*"I was expecting danger, you can't keep doing this so frequently or I'll just think you're calling wolf."* Harry chuckled and reached to scratch Prongs behind the ear. 

"Sorry, but I'm afraid you were requested." Prongs, who just noticed McGonagall, turned with Harry to the teacher. 

The professor was staring blankly at the spirit, tears starting to form in her eyes. 

"Professor, are you alright?" Harry walked over to her worriedly, and she looked back at him with different eyes. 

"Your father had the same patronus, a stag to compliment your mother's doe." McGonagall reached into her pocket and got a handkerchief, shakily using it to dab her eyes. Obviously she was familiar with his parents. 

"You knew them?" Harry had gathered a treasure trove of information on them this year, he'd make sure to review it thoroughly when he had time. 

"Yes, your mother, and especially your father were some favorite students of mine. During the war we fought together, and I knew them well." She seemed to pull herself back together, and went over to study the buck. 

Prongs was receptive to it, he was just so prideful. 

"Careful there Prongs, or your head will get to big to hold up." Harry watched dryly as he bleated in annoyance. 

*"The disrespect! You used to look at me in awe and amazement, now I have been reduced to being taunted by a human boy."* 

"Yes, that was before I knew you were just an arrogant deer." 

*"I AM NO DEER!"* He stamped his hooves, turning away. Obviously that was a sore spot, Harry wondered how many times he was called that to illicit such a strong reaction. 

"Are you communicating?" Oh, that's right; the general populace didn't know the truth about patroni. Harry turned to the Professor's skeptical expression. 

"Yes, actually. I didn't really know how to explain this, but patroni are guardian spirits. They have their own consciousness, thoughts, and actions. When we summon them against a dementor, we ask for a guardian against that. However, they are much more than dementor shields. They can protect you from anything that really means you harm, but they're the best at dealing with dark magic." Harry began petting Prongs neck as he explained, and the stag leaned into it. 

"So, you're telling me that if I called my patronus forth, I would be able to communicate with it?" McGonagall was still doubtful, but when Harry gave an emphatic nod, she performed the spell. She'd had a lot of practice this year, how silly she would feel if she was ignoring a sentient being this whole time. 

Her tabby cat appeared, nice and silver like the last time. It looked around, seeing if any dementors were near by. When none were seen, the cat looked at McGonagall questioningly. Minerva wondered how she had missed such intelligent behavior. 

"Hello, there." She felt a bit silly, but the tabby peered even harder, before floating up close and peering into her eyes. 

*"Hello, Minerva."* The witch startled, not expecting the voice inside of her head. She turned to Harry, voice obviously shocked. 

"How is this possible?" 

"I'm not sure. The way Prongs described it was like Wix simply... forgot. It's odd, isn't it? How has no one else figured this out by now, and why me?" 

*"Probably because you are one of us, Harry."* Prongs looked at him imploringly. 

*"Well obviously, but I can't have anyone know that right now. This will be a good distraction for anyone noticing anything, well, odd about me."* Harry answered in his mind, this did not need to be spoken out loud. 

*"As you wish, but if you reveal yourself you will be treated with great respect and honor. Guardian spirits of any kind used to be held in high regards before we were forgotten as such, reduced to lowly shields."* Prongs turned away dramatically, and Harry snorted aloud. 

*"Maybe a thousand years ago, but nowadays I'd probably be experimented on in the Department of Mysteries. Besides, as the Boy-Who-Lived I get enough undying reverence."* 

*"That is true."* 

"This is an incredible discovery, Potter." The witch had finished chatting with her cat, and had turned to the two. "This is enormous, the dee oh em would have a field day! You must publish your findings, Potter." Harry drew a blank here. 

"Publish?" He wasn't that good at writing, who would take it anyways? 

"Yes! While this is usually the final step earning a masters, you have researched and discovered something amazing! Why, I'd say this opens up a new field of study! And you, Harry Potter, have arguably founded it." Seeing McGonagall so excited in one day was extremely odd for Harry. 

"But, why me? Why can't you publish it, or just tell everyone else?" Harry didn't invent the intelligent spirits, and he had no experience with this either! 

"You misunderstood me, this is a one time opportunity for you. From what I gathered from Athena, there is so much more to these spirits than we ever imagined. You were the one to break this odd stalemate and discover this, and I wish to help you be the person to inform the magical world. Even if you don't want to base your career on this, writing a successful paper will create a world of opportunities for you." McGonagall abruptly got up and began searching her bookshelf, while Harry just blinked in shock. 

"W-Why would you help me with this?" 

"Because," The stern woman came back with a hard cover book, and she placed it in his hand. 

A SCHOLAR'S FIRST PAPER 

It was by no means an elegant book, and when Harry opened it it was stuffed full of instructions. 

"I want to help my Gryffs reach their full potential. You have just displayed to me that you have the ability to be a great wizard when you grow, and if I didn't give you this push I would be neglecting my duty as your professor." She then handed him a thick, blank note book with a matching self inking quill. Harry and Prongs looked at the armful with incredulous eyes. 

"So, you want me to write a ground-breaking paper as a thirteen-nearly-fourteen year old, just so that Hogwarts can get another good looking alumni?" 

"Partially, but mostly because I want to see you successful. Your parents would have been in the history books for their accomplishments, if not for the war. You have obviously inherited at least SOME of their brains, and I owe it to them to support you the same way I did them. So, will you take this project on?" McGonagall looked at him for an answer, but Harry was still processing. 

McGonagall's look softened, "While it would be optimal to to begin immediately, I understand why you would want to wait or not do it at all. This will be challenging, but-" 

"I'll do it. Or, I'll try anyways." Harry gave her a determined look, having decided. Researching Patroni was something he was going to do this summer anyhow, this was an excuse to have knowledge about these things. He didn't care much for the notoriety this could bring him, but if it could help the spirits live their purpose easier than it was worth a shot. 

Harry needed to learn more, he was part spirit now. He had to learn to control these powers and his magic for an edge, so that the next time his life was in danger he had an out. He was done being weak and thrown into trouble, if Voldemort wanted round four he'd get a nasty surprise. 

Also, living up to his parents was another good incentive. 

"Good, this book will be your guide on what to include and how to write this. If you need absolutely anything, write me and we will go from there. My address is on the first page of the notebook, and I will do my best to get any resources you need. Prongs," McGonagall pointed sternly at the bored Prongs, who jumped to attention in an incredibly James-like fashion. "will be your main source of information. That will already make this easier since you don't need to cite almost everything. Come to me after the Start of Term feast in September and show me your progress, we will also discuss any advanced lessons if you wish." 

Harry looked to Prongs, who nodded. The stag left in a flash and McGonagall lead the boy to the door, opening it for him because of his full arms. 

"Think it over this summer. I am incredibly pleased with this development, and I hope you begin pushing yourself to succeed where I know you will. Now, you can begin when you arrive at your home. It's late and the train leaves before noon, so get some rest. Remember, contact me any time. Goodnight, Mister Potter." She closed the old door and presumably went to her office, leaving Harry with a much busier summer. 

With the two books and quill, Harry made his way through the darkened corridors in a daze. How the hell was he gonna do this? Learning to control ice powers and writing a complex paper wasn't going to be easy, what happened to the lazy summer from a few hours ago? 

Harry groaned softly to himself, face in a pained expression. How did Hermione do it? High expectations just seemed like a lot of stress to him. As he made his way up the marble staircase to the fat lady, he nearly threw himself off when he factored in the chores the Dursleys were gonna give him. 

Wait, hadn't Prongs mentioned something about summoning him not counting as magic under the restriction? Did that mean his powers were invisible too? 

Harry gained a rather villainous smile as he thought about ways to cut down his list of chores. 

"Potter? You good there, mate?" Shaking himself out of his daydream, Harry saw that he had entered the common room and a group of his year mates that included Seamus, Dean, Lavender, Pavarti, and Neville were looking at him weirdly. Yeah, bad place to practice evil grins for when you threaten your awful relatives. 

"Ah, yeah. Sorry, been a long day. I better get up to bed and make sure I'm packed for tomorrow." He almost jogged up to his dorm, fumbling with the doorknob one handed. When he finally got inside, he dropped the heavy books on his poster bed with a sigh. He then flopped faced down and whined into the sheets, how embarrassing. 

Rolling onto his back, Harry rubbed his eyes and readjusted his glasses. This was easily the most exhausting, non-life threatening day of his life. 

He got up and went over to his trunk, opening the latch and lifting the lid. He grabbed the books and placed them in his partially empty trunk as the door to the dorm opened. 

"What are those?" Hermione came up behind Harry as Ron sat on his bed, and Harry decided not to fight her. It would only make the girl more suspicious, and it was a good way to hide his other problem. 

"Some books McGonagall gave me for a summer project." He let her look at them and plopped back on his nice, soft bed. What he wouldn't do to stay curled up in it for the next century. 

"We needed books? Are you sure? Were we expected to go ask-" Of course Hermione would over think it, he stopped her pacing by sticking his leg out to halt her. 

"They're not for the homework, Hermione. McGonagall and I chatted about the spells I've been working on, including my patronus. I, well- let's just say I made a pretty crazy discovery today. Either way, she ended up wanting a paper on it." He watched as she looked at the titles and gasped, Ron jerked awake from where he had been dozing off. 

"A Scholar's First Paper?! You're writing a formal paper?! Harry that's incredible! What's it about? Your patronus? What did you discover that Professor McGonagall wanted to help you write a paper on?! I'm so jealous, you have to tell me EVERYTHING-" 

"Ugh, slow down you study-druggie. I just layed down." He was very tired, and this conversation was awfully engaging. 

"But this is huge, you're writing a complex inquiry about a subject you have to know better then the back of your hand. Now, what is it? Do you need any help?" 

"Come on, 'Mione. Let the bloke breathe, it's been a long year." Ron had ended up migrating under his covers unnoticed, Harry envied his best mate's sneakiness. 

"Thank you, Ron. Now, I can't tell you anything because if word got out about this, my paper would be worthless. I have McGonagall's help on this, but if something comes up that she can't solve I promise you I'll write." Harry rolled over on his stomach, scooching up until he was able to pull the blankets on himself. He took off his glasses and folded them, placing them somewhere on the nightstand with his eyes already closed. 

"If you think you can get away that easily you're sorely mistaken." She tried to wrestle the covers away, ignoring his whiney "nooo"s. "Somethings been going on with you since that day at the lake, and I know your blue patronus has something to do with it." Why did she have to be so damned smart? Even McGonagall didn't notice Prongs was blue, though that was probably because of the lighting and how subtle it was. 

Harry probably shouldn't have caved so easily, but hell was he tired from all that magic casting. 

"Prongs, come out." Harry was surprised it worked since his face was smushed into his pillow, but he heard Hermione suck in her breath and Ron fall off the bed. 

*"I am getting very tired of this, child."* 

"Whatever, just talk like a person for the audience like a good show-pony." He grumbled that to the side of his bed, before he felt teeth on the back of his shirt dragging him away from his rest. 

"Prongs, put me down!" 

*"Then apologize, lazy brat."* Apparently Prongs was projecting his voice from the stillness of his friends, who he could kind of see since he was being held in the air by the scruff of his shirt. 

"Fine, sorry! Now please let me go!" 

Thud. 

"OW!" 

*"You sure are grumpy when you're tired, angry too. Now, why have you summoned me for the THIRD time today?"* 

"My friends wanted to know why I was writing a paper, and they wouldn't have believed me if I hadn't summoned you." Harry grunted as he got back up, stiffly sitting back down on his bed. 

He grabbed his glasses again, and once more explained the truth of the Patroni. 

"Incredible, absolutely marvelous! I definitely understand why Proffesor McGonagall wanted you to write about this, would you please let me read it before you give it to her?" Hermione was giving Harry the puppy eyes as he pet Prongs, an apology for his 'insolence'. 

"Yeah, why not? Just remember not to say anything." Harry didn't care that much if it got out, he just wanted to make sure Wix got the correct information. 

"Well, now I definitely want to learn to cast it. Think you could help m- us, next year?" Ron chimed in from his bed next to Harry's, Hermione was nodding along, interested as well. 

"Yeah, but don't get your hopes up, I don't think I'm much of a teacher." Harry yawned, there was something about petting animals that made you extra sleepy. 

"I'm sure you'll do fine. Now, it's getting late. We'd better get to bed or we'll miss the train, we can talk more on the way to the station tomorrow. Goodnight Ronald, Harry. Oh, Prongs." Hermione tacked the stag on at the end, and she went over to the door as she fought a yawn herself. 

The two boys acknowledged her as she left, and Prongs snorted. He was distracted by the heavenly scratching behind his ear. 

"Welp, I'm too tired to finish packing. I'll do it in the morning, you better get rid of him before Seamus, Neville and Dean come back." 

Harry sighed, he didn't want to move. He was too tired, and too comfortable. Prongs moved for Harry, pushing him back to his pillow and pulling up the sheets. And after removing his glasses for the last time, Prongs boded him good night. 

*"Sleep well, Harry."* 

"G'night, P'ongs..." The stag vanished, leaving Harry in the dark room. Ron's snores were already filling the dorm, and Harry couldn't fight the urge to close his eyes any longer. 

|  
\-- ¤ --  
| 

Leaving Hogwarts was the same as every year, Harry's dorm mates made a mad scramble to stuff their over filled trunks with their things, and even Harry's meagre belongings didn't seem to want to fit in his big trunk. 

Once that was done and they left them for the house elves, Harry and Ron met up with Hermione for breakfast. They ate their last Hogwarts meal, Harry in preticulare enjoyed the treacle tart that Dobby made especially for him. 

Then, after saying their last goodbyes, they made their way to the carriages. Thankfully the topics stayed rather light-hearted, discussing the homework and Quidditch World Cup that Mister Weasley had gotten tickets too. Ron and Hermione knew not to mention anything bad, Harry was always sullen when returning to the Dursleys. 

All too soon they came to the scarlet engine and boarded, and Harry nearly having to drag his feet. When at Hogwarts, things just seemed easier. But entering back into the muggle world always made the pit in Harry's stomach ache, and this year there was some extra stress on top. 

The letter from Sirius and the new owl for Ron that arrived during the ride were nice, it lifted Harry's spirits just a little. He still spent most of the ride staring out the window, occasionally adding into his friends' conversation. 

When the express finally halted at King's Cross, they had changed and were wrestling with their luggage. They managed to get on the platform, where Harry greeted Mr and Mrs Weasley. He turned to his two friends. 

"Well, see you guys later." 

"Yeah, and don't forget; we'll be picking you up in August for the cup!" 

"Just please write this time you two, you're just awful with it." 

They all had a group hug. Well, Hermione hugged them. 

"Bye!" 

"See you, mate." 

Harry felt a little piece of happiness leave with his friends as they left, and he began lugging his trunk to the portal. When he crossed, Harry bid the magical world fair well. Even if it was dangerous, it was better than his other life. 

Harry made his way over to to the Dursleys, who despite trying to appear normal stood out like a sore thumb. He smiled bitterly. 

Time to get down to business.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All right, time for the good stuff to happen. Thanks for reading, sorry if this chapter was a bit boring. It's not my favorite, but it was necessary ;)

**Author's Note:**

> I took some inspiration from the movie, that scene with Sirius was everything.  
> I actually have a plan for this one, hope you enjoy this.   
> I live for comments, gimme.


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